


Tomorrow I'll Be Quicker

by foldednotes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Post-Zayn One Direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4159242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foldednotes/pseuds/foldednotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never took off as a band but 2 years ago, Zayn took off. Now he's getting married and Harry has to confront himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow I'll Be Quicker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aso322](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aso322/gifts).



> This is half of a The Graduate AU and half of a struggling Indie Band AU, the title is the first line from 'Hiding Tonight' by Alex Turner.

When he’d gotten the invitation, it had knocked the air out his lungs. He had been prepared to get one, but seeing it printed on paper was something else. It was sitting on the kitchen table, next to the milk, reminding him of what he still couldn’t believe. Zayn was getting married. To a guy Harry had never met. The simple idea that there was someone in Zayn’s life he had never met. It was a strange thought. They used to know everything about each other. Went to school together, hated and loved each other in turns, got together at 16. When Zayn had started talking about being a singer, Harry knew that they would have to try together. They’d spent a few months in a tiny room in London, until they met the lads and things started taking off. Of course they never really took off so much. They’d gotten a deal, made an album, went on tour, repeated the latter two steps. They’d been able to make a living, opened for a few dates of someone else’s US tour, but in the end the dreams of being famous, being someone, being big and important and conquering the world hadn’t come true. But they’d still been trying until Zayn left. 

He got a text from Niall.

‘you alright mate?’

He had probably gotten the same invitation. Harry didn’t feel like answering, didn’t know if he was alright. Sure he was alright, he knew Zayn was getting married, he knew they weren’t even really friends anymore. But he still had trouble figuring out how anyone could just stop talking to a part of themselves.

When he finally answered, Niall invited him over for a beer. He had opened two bottles and had asked Harry if he wanted to talk about it. He did want to talk about it but he didn’t know how. Harry lay down on Nialls living room floor, looking at the fish tank. The room was dark and the light behind the tank projected the moving fish and soft ripples of water on the walls. His eyes followed the faint purple fish Zayn had given Niall as a housewarming present.

‘I don’t know.’ The fish reached the wall of the tank and made a turn.

‘Are you worried? About the wedding?’ Niall got up and sat next to him on the floor. Harry just made a noise. He tried to put it into words but there was no coaxing them out of his mouth.

‘Well, what are you worried about then?’ Niall got it. Without words, just a touch of his arm.

‘The future… I guess. I just want it to be…’ He was trying to find a word that didn’t exist.

‘What?’ Niall asked softly.

‘…Different.’ It was as close as Harry could get to what he actually wanted to say.

‘And you think Zayn means different?’

‘I think I used to.’ It sounded like a question.

‘I think you need to move on. Find a new different.’ Even in the dark, Niall looked so sure that it was possible.

‘I just… don’t know how… I think.’ Harry looked back to the tank, the purple fish had vanished. ‘Well I think this whining won’t do ya any good, let’s go out and get drunk.’ The shadow of a fish swam across Niall’s face.

 

* * *

 

They went to their usual spot and got a table at the very back of the pub. Niall went to the bar to get them a round and returned with Liam. ‘You weren’t joking. He looks terrible.’ Liam said. ‘Thanks.’ Harry knew Liam was right but he didn’t have to say it. The alcohol helped him forget some things but it also made his head heavy. He kept circling around the night Zayn had told him he was leaving. They’d just come back from touring, it was a bad tour, they barely sold any tickets, he was exhausted and he could guess that Zayn was too. Zayn never argued, he had just said that he couldn’t stay and that he was sorry. Harry had let him go because he didn’t know what else to do.

Now, nearly two years later, Harry’s head was resting on a sticky table in a noisy pub and he still didn’t know why his best friend wasn’t there with him. ’He always like, kept me in place.’ Someone once told him that the best people were the ones with their head in the clouds and both feet on the ground. He’d thought that someone like that would have to be awfully tall. Taller than him. Or maybe if there was just someone whose feet he could borrow.

‘Well Lads, what’s this all about then?’ Louis had no doubt been alerted by Niall as well.

’Me and Niall are tryin’ to cheer this boy up.’ Liam said.

‘It’s not about the wedding invitations is it?’ Louis sounded annoyed already and Harry didn’t blame him.

Niall made a small noise and even though it probably meant nothing, it sounded sad to Harry.

‘Jesus, Harry that ended two years ago, we were all down when he left but you’ve got to move on with your life, we’ve all had to.’

‘I don’t think it just works like that Lou, I mean professionally, yeah. He’s been ok by himself for a while. But this is Zayn. I mean they’ve known each other since they were 13.’ Niall tried to explain.

‘Twelve. We were twelve.’

‘So you’ve tried getting him drunk and this was the result? I’m concerned.’ Louis was trying to be funny.

‘Tell me about it.’ Liam lifted a strand of hair from Harry’s face and looked at him pretending to pout.

‘As if you weren’t sad and angry… when he just left.’ Harry snapped at all of them but mostly Liam.

‘We were Harry. We still are. But this is good for him, he found someone he wants to spend his life with. He’s happy.’ Of course Liam would say that.

‘How do you even know that?’

‘Niall’s been talking’ to him.’ Liam looked to Niall.

’Serious?’ Louis sounded as offended as Harry felt.

Niall gave a small ‘Yeah’, paused, straightened himself and said ‘One of us had to. Since you’re all too coward to do it.’

There was a long silence. Louis downed his drink and went to get another while Liam absentmindedly patted Niall’s knee. Harry’s head started spinning. What had Zayn said, how did Niall know he was happy, how did he live now, who even was this guy he was getting married to, what had made Niall decide to contact him, did Zayn miss them all, did he miss performing, did he miss London, did he miss Harry?

Louis returned with a fresh drink and Harry felt like he just didn’t have the energy for all the questions in his mind.

‘Can we just go home?’ He asked.

Everyone looked at him and quietly agreed. They all finished their drinks and Niall offered to let everyone sleep at his place. Harry slept there 3 nights a week anyway and the rest of them agreed since it was closest to the pub. When he was lying on Niall’s couch, his head was still swimming in questions. How did he feel about this? About Niall talking to Zayn. About himself not talking to Zayn. About Zayn. About himself. What would Zayn be doing if it was Harry getting married? He wouldn’t be like this. Not this pathetic and unable to be his own person. If Zayn would have been there he’d have told him to pull it together. To be a good friend and be happy that someone he loved was getting married. To be a better person. The problem remained that Zayn wasn’t there.

 

* * *

 

 

‘I’m going to marry Zayn.’

‘Ok, sure mate.’ Niall was very focused on catching a pancake back in the pan.

‘Wait, what?’ He jerked the pan towards Harry in surprise and the pancake landed flat in the middle of the floor.

‘I’m going to marry Zayn.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting the part where he’s marrying someone else?’ Niall was making his ‘are you serious?’ face.

‘No. I’m going up there early and convincing him to marry me instead.’

‘And when did you decide this?’

‘About an hour ago.’ He had been staring at the purple Zayn-fish from his bed on Niall’s couch and thought about having a housewarming party with Zayn.

‘Oh, you have a plan, then?’

‘No, I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.’

‘Harry, this whole idea sounds a little half baked.’

‘No it’s not. It’s completely baked.’

‘You sound completely baked, mate.’ Louis had come in while they were talking.

Now they all stood there looking at the pancake on the floor.

‘You’re the one who’s cleaning that up.’ Harry knew that Niall would probably just wipe the floor again after he was done, but he picked up the pancake anyway, remembering that he’d left the milk out at his house, next to the wedding invite.

In the car, his thoughts kept fluttering around like pieces torn out of a tapestry. Zayn’s hand tapping on the kitchen counter the night he left. The first drive in Harry’s cabriolet over the hills in Berkshire, Zayn laughing. Sitting on the tour bus, the silence growing like a cancer. Zayn’s hand on Harry’s back, guiding him after a few beers. The subway back home, Zayn showing him his new tag on a carriage window. Niall standing in his doorway, telling him Zayn was getting married. A moth caught in their old London room, fluttering around the lamp. Standing on stage their first tour, people singing their songs back like an echo. Harry coming to Zayn’s house the first time at 16, feeling out of place and awkward. Going there the last time, feeling like he was seeing his own family. Zayn sick in his bed, Harry bringing him homework and a new comic book Zayn had asked for. The neon lights in the supermarket, reflected in the glass of the freezer around Zayn’s face like a halo. Zayn squeezing his arm as they went into the meeting to sign their first record contract. He tried to keep his mind on the road in front of him, accelerating to feel the wind in his hair and drown out the noises in his ears.

He was frantic once he got to the hotel, paced up and down, didn’t know whether to sit down or stand up. Definitely shouldn’t have had that fourth cup of coffee. What was there to do first? He needed to figure out where Zayn actually lived. Should’ve asked Niall before he left. He rang and had to leave a message. ‘Caaall me. I don’t even know where Zayn lives here. You have his address right?’ He needed to do something in the meantime. He knew Zayn went to uni. Had started that after they broke up. Did they give him a wifi key? It didn’t matter he could just look it up on his phone. A general university address was a start. Should he just hang around campus and hope for the best? Maybe there was a coffeeshop on campus where he could hang out. No more coffee though. Why did he ever start that? Stupid americans and their stupid frappuccinos.

* * *

 

It was a nice campus for the most part. Red brick and green quads. When he arrived, it was nearly empty, only a few scattered students were sitting in the sun. He could hear the wind in the trees, feel the breeze. It smelled of spring, although it didn’t quite feel warm enough yet. It reminded him of the short time he’d spent in California, or rather, of the kind of weather that would, in California, have reminded him of home. It was a little odd. A feeling twice removed and at the same time as familiar as his right thumb.

He remembered a class trip to the University of Manchester. It was probably intended to get students excited about university, but there was no structure to the trip. They’d gotten packed lunches and schedules for the voluntary events of the day and were told to ‘explore’, which for most students meant finding the most convenient way to get either high or drunk. They were 16. Harry’d just started his band and hadn’t spoken to Zayn in 6 months because Zayn was into Hip Hop and RnB and at 16 that seemed like an unbridgeable difference. There had also been some drama about a group chat that seemed exactly like the kind of thing teenagers would fight over in hindsight. Even then Harry had known that it was probably a stupid reason to split into different friend groups but it hadn’t really kept him from going along with it. It was just easier this way. That day the godawful keyboardist of his first band, the girl he thought he had a crush on back then and probably a few others were sat on the ground having ice-cream. He hadn’t noticed Zayn coming. He had stood a bit away with his sunglasses, he probably didn’t even see Harry, he was looking at a map in his hands. It was the distance between them that made Harry uncomfortable, not knowing how to approach Zayn when it used to be so normal. They used to be so familiar and now they couldn’t even really have ice-cream together. He remembered making the decision to go over was a big step away from his friends but he did it.

‘How are you?’ He’d been careful to leave Zayn some space. To make sure he knew he could opt out of the conversation. Zayn had turned around and made a surprised face.

‘Fine. A bit bored, this trip is pointless innit?’

‘Feels like it. But better than school right?’

‘Yea probably’

‘D’you go to anythin’? ‘

‘Nah but there’s a thing on graphic design in 10 minutes that I’m lookin’ for right now.’

‘I didn’t know you like graphic design.’ He’d blurted it out as if he was supposed to know. The line was still ringing in his ears, even seven years later.

‘That’s cuz I never told you.’ Zayn had given him a smile that felt like an apology.

‘Well I got nothing to do we should go together.’

On the way back they’d sat next to each other in the back of the bus, Zayn playing him Cassie and Harry playing Zayn Franz Ferdinand.

 

Harry was jerked out of his daydream because class was ending and students were slowly filling the quad. He stood up and looked around. When, by some of the dumbest luck to ever exist, he actually spotted Zayn, he felt like he might faint. Zayn looked different. He had gotten some new tattoos on his left arm and his hair was shorter. Shaved at the sides like it had been the last time Harry’d seen him, but shorter at the top. He was wearing black jeans and a T-Shirt and talking to a girl in a light blue hijab. Harry suddenly felt out of place, like he should run. He’d been expecting to see his Zayn, the one he knew, the one he grew up with but this one looked different, he was more tan than Harry had ever seen him, he seemed to move differently, with more energy. Harry just stood there, not really knowing what to do, as Zayn and the girl were walking in his direction. Zayn laughed at something she said, his eyes crinkling, looking fondly at the girl who was also giggling. His laugh was still the same. He looked like he had at 13 and at 16 and at 19 and at 20. He looked like Zayn. Until he spotted Harry. His face dropped, he looked around, as if looking for an escape route for a second, stopped, said goodbye to the girl and finally walked towards Harry. He walked up to him and just stood there for a few seconds before Harry finally said ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ Zayn replied. ‘What… what are you doin’ here?’

‘I’m… I don’t… I wanted to… see you.’

‘How’d you find me?’ Zayn wasn’t really looking at Harry, he seemed to have his eyes fixed on something behind him.

‘I knew you went… here and then… I don’t know… really I just sat here… and then you like… came out of that building.’

‘Arabic.’ Zayn seemed absent.

‘I don’t speak… I mean I could try to learn it but that’d take some time I think.’

‘No, that’s where I was comin’ from.’ Zayn was looking at him now, probably trying to figure out if Harry was real. Harry didn’t really feel real so he couldn’t help.

‘Ah ok.’ There was a long pause

‘I need to get home.’ Zayn said. He’d turned around and walked a few steps before he looked back and said ‘It was nice seeing you.’

‘Yeah.. Um.. You too Zayn.’

 

It all felt a little like a dream when Harry got back to the hotel.

 

 

* * *

 

When the rest of the boys arrived a few days later, Harry hadn’t had the courage yet to go back to find Zayn. He’d instead been walking around his hometown, which incidentally felt a lot like seeing Zayn. It had been almost 6 years since he left. He kept coming past buildings that used to be places he loved. Their old practice space in the worst part of town, then an abandoned factory, was now an art gallery. The shops on high street were all big chains now, Topshop and Primark and H&M. Zayn’s old neighbourhood still looked the same but the empty houses were no longer empty. He was careful to avoid Zayn’s street, he wasn’t sure if his family still lived there. Harry’s family had moved away shortly after Harry and he hadn’t been back home since. He saw his mum about twice a year.

Niall was the first to find Harry. He practically tackled him in the hotel lobby where Harry had been spending his afternoons.

‘You alright?’ Niall didn’t let him answer.

‘The boys are on the way, were just held up a bit by traffic I think, had to take different taxis from the airport. How’s Zayn?’

‘He’s… good. I think.’ Harry didn’t know.

‘You looking forward to stag night?

‘Yeah, of course.’ He didn’t know that either.

‘Well alright then, I’ll go drop off my things and you can show me ‘round, yeah?’

 

 

‘There’s not a lot to see Niall.’ They were standing in front of the Hotel a few minutes later.

‘Just show me your old party spots mate, I don’t need the sights.’

‘Uh, well alright. We mostly hung out in parks and like, people’s houses.’

‘You can show me the bakery.’

‘Yeah s’pose I can do that.’ Harry looked at his feet, he hadn’t been back to the bakery yet, even though he missed it. He didn’t feel like feeling at home here without Zayn and the bakery might make him feel so much like home that he'd actually miss being 16.

‘Have you not gone back to it? That’s the only thing you ever talk about.’

‘I know. We can go.’

They walked down the few streets that it took to get to Harry’s old workplace. With every turn, recognising the corners and buildings, Niall chatting next to him about his work at the studio, how they had a few more songs to write for this artist and that one, about the flight, Zayn’s wedding plans, Harry felt more ok. It didn’t really feel quite like home, it didn’t feel quite like he’d hoped to come back, celebrated and famous, but it felt like a good start to being ok with all of it.

After the warm welcome from the ladies at the bakery and the 5 pieces of cake Niall and himself had been persuaded into eating, he really did feel pretty ok with everything. Most things seemed to change but at least the bakery was still there.

 

* * *

 

 

The spot they were going to was in a part of town that was little more than ruins of old brick houses when he’d left and was now a ‘waterfront location’. One of those things that existed in London and New York but seemed odd to think about in the town he remembered. But if he’d learned one thing on this trip, it was that he didn’t remember a place that still existed. Louis, Liam, Niall and him all piled into a big cab, Niall told the driver where to go. After a short while Harry realised that he was taking a detour, he remembered that much about his own hometown. On the drive, Harry started wondering why he didn’t feel compelled to reach any of his old friends. He didn’t really know. Friendship wasn’t hard for him, he’d met a few people from back then when they came to see him or on random occasions. It just didn’t feel right.

‘You gotta cheer up a little. We’re not goin to a funeral.’ Niall said and patted him on the back.

‘I know.’ Harry replied.

‘Ah I can’t wait to party with Zayn again, I’ve missed havin’ him to drink with.’ Liam sounded genuinely excited.

‘Don’t you think it’s odd that none of us have met his fiancé yet?’ Louis jumped in, still sounding irritated.

‘Maybe, but we know enough don’t we? And also we’re meeting tomorrow for lunch right?’ Liam again. Zayn had invited just the four of them to his stag night, there’d been a joint party with his fiancé and the rest of his friends the night before.

When they arrived at the bar, Zayn was standing in front of it, waiting. He smiled at them as they got out of the taxi. It was soft and tentative, the kind of smile that he smiled when he was trying to trust something he wasn’t fully convinced of. Harry realised that Zayn was probably feeling as unsure as he was. He hugged Niall first, they lingered for a bit, Niall saying something into Zayn’s ear that made Zayn laugh a little. Liam was next and he pulled Zayn so far into his arms and seemed to hold him so tight that Zayn had no choice but to eventually give in and rest his head on Liams shoulder for a second before letting go.

‘I’ve missed ya.’ Liam said, and Zayn replied ‘I did too.’

Louis had to make a bit more of an effort. He said: ‘Zayn.’ And reached out an arm as if to shake Zayn’s hand. They bumped shoulders but one or both of them didn’t let go in time, so they still ended up hugging until Louis said ‘Congratulations mate.’ Zayn replied: ‘Thank you.’ And gave another one of his smiles that carried more meaning than most sentences uttered in the world.

Then Zayn stood in front of Harry, much like he had when he’d seen him on campus the other day. ‘Hi’ Harry said. ‘Hi’ Zayn replied. ‘I’m glad to have you here’ Zayn said. He turned to the others and said ‘Should we go inside?’ and everyone turned and entered the bar. Zayn let Harry go before him and just as the door swung shut behind them, Harry felt Zayn’s hand on his arm. He gave it a light squeeze, the way he used to back when it was normal.

They spent much of the evening talking about their times in London, about the parties in the tiny apartment Zayn and Harry had lived in in the beginning, about the gig that got them a record contract, it had been in a bar somewhere in a back alley in Camden and none of them had expected anything to come out of it but it did. That was barely six months into their life in London, three months after they’d met the others. Harry remembered why he hand’t really contacted anyone back home. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to or couldn’t imagine it, they just didn’t know what these boys knew.

‘Those first few months were exciting, weren’t they?’ Liam said.‘We had so much fun with it.’

‘Definitely. I loved every second of it, wouldn’t change a thing.’ Niall sounded genuinely like he meant it.

‘D’you remember your housewarming Niall? How we had all our old friends come down and paid for trains and everything’ Zayn was smiling wide ‘And how you kitchen table broke on the first night you had it.’ He was fully laughing now.

‘And then Louis had the brilliant idea to throw it in a river.’ Liam said.

‘Well, first, we needed to get rid of it. And second, you were the one who actually threw it in Liam.’ Louis was doing his offended voice. They reminisced about their time in London for a long time, it had been a thing to experience, they’d all been so young, lived together in one way or another for 4 years. It didn’t sound as long as it felt. Those four years had changed everything about him.

‘Harry do you remember the first time we met?’ Niall asked jokingly, he knew Harry didn’t remember, he’d been blackout drunk. One of Harry’s new London friends had talked him and Zayn into going on one of those tourist pub crawls. They’d pretended to be Americans and had a bet going who could convince more people of it. Zayn did a fantastic american accent. They’d come up to Niall in the last club, a tourist trap off Leicester Square where a drink was the price of two full dinners elsewhere. Zayn and Niall were recreating their first conversation.

‘Well hey there, you must be from around here.’ Zayn said in his american accent, that still sounded impeccable. Harry was smiling.

‘And then Harry said something like ‘Hello, how do you do?’ as if he came from the 50s and was wearing chequered trousers.’ Niall was laughing.

‘I was wearing a plaid shirt though.’ Harry remembered the shirt, he’d been quite fond of it.

‘Oh, so that you remember?’ Louis was mocking him.

‘Haha I think he’s right, I think I can see it. He wasn’t just wearing’ one though, you were wearing two plaid shirts at once.’ Niall actually had trouble bringing the sentence out he was laughing so much.

‘Yeah and you could still see half his chest.’ Zayn added, which made everyone at the table laugh, including Harry.

‘I didn’t believe for a second that you were american.’ Niall said.

‘That’s why he remembers nothing, he’d been losing all night.’ Zayn added.

‘Well it wasn’t a very fair game, you never told me you knew how to do an american accent.’

‘Harry, you’d heard me do it a million times.’ It was true.

Once they’d met Niall, he introduced them to Louis and Liam, who were both working at the same label Niall was an intern at.

‘You know, in retrospect Zayn, we could’ve looked for a job in music before we went off to be rockstars and spent all our savings.’ Harry was being dry.

‘Well you found us! You didn’t need to.’ Liam said.

‘Haha yeah they did but look where it landed them. Right back where they started.’ Louis said. Zayn was still smiling and Harry himself was too, but he felt uneasy.

‘We all expected it to go better didn’t we?’ Liam sounded like he was actually asking. ‘Like I don’t know, didn’t it feel like we were definitely going to be famous?’

‘Yeah it did.’ It got quiet then and even though Harry had known it was a blunt way to say it, it was done.

‘Ah but it had to end some day, didn’t it?’ Niall tried.

‘Just not this soon.’ It was unusual for Harry to be like this. He knew it was not something he should have said. But he was already drunk and he didn’t want to feel sad surrounded by friends but he did and he didn’t want to blame them but he did and he’d believed he was going to be someone but he wasn’t. He was still just another kid with dreams of being Mick Jagger. Everyone was more or less looking at the drinks in front of them.

‘I’m going for a smoke.’ Zayn got up and left.

‘Alright. Good job mate.’ It was Liam who actually said something. ‘It’s his wedding you know. You have to stop thinking of yourself all the time.’

‘Alright.’ Harry got up and followed the way Zayn had taken. Zayn had walked out into a back alley. He stood there, fidgeting with the cigarette in his hand.

‘Why are you walking away?’ Harry knew it was unfair but he had so many unanswered questions in his mind, so much confusion, so much longing for the closeness that used to be so effortless.

‘What am I supposed to stay for?’ Zayn sounded impatient.

‘We were having fun.’

‘You’re the one who ruined this.’ Zayn said.

It was sharp, unexpected. The conversation stood between them like a wall. The words they’d said but more importantly all the things that had attached themselves to them without permission. Zayn was still holding his cigarette and lighter in a dimly lit, dirty alley somewhere in their hometown. Harry looked down, his head throbbing from the alcohol and the noise inside. There was a broken guitar pick on the ground. How had someone managed to break a new guitar pick in two? He wanted to walk away and just leave Zayn be, he felt tired and fights were never his thing anyway, but he also didn’t know what would happen if he did walk away.

‘That’s not good enough.’ he said tentatively. ‘You never gave me a reason why you left. You have to give me a reason.’ He felt himself sound like an indignant child, but he couldn’t help it.

‘I never had any space. You never left me any space. You’re doin’ it again now, you just want everything without asking for it.’ Zayn said it without looking at him, he’d finally lit his cigarette and was blowing smoke at the wall next to him.

‘Do you have space now?’ Zayn inhaled and looked at Harry.

‘More than with you.’ Harry could tell that it was intentioned to make him feel bad but Zayn hadn’t quite managed the tone he was going for. He sounded more sad than spiteful. Harry decided to let it be. If Zayn wanted space, this was probably exactly where he needed it most.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’m going back inside.’

He couldn’t really help getting smashed afterwards.

 

Harry couldn’t remember how he got back to the hotel, even while he was trying to open the door to his room. He felt slow. Like his brain was wrapped in cotton. Zayn had an arm around his waist.

‘Come on then, the bed is over there.’ Leaning into Zayn like this, he could remember what it was like at 13, being drunk the first time. He could remember the smell of urine and stale rain on the way home. They’d leaned into each other like they were right now. Zayn had laughed, almost giggled, something Harry had never heard before but many times after. He remembered how they’d stopped every few meters because he kept thinking he’d lost his phone. Lying on his bedroom floor later, feeling like the room was moving around him and telling Zayn about some girl he’d gotten to grind on that night. Zayn had laughed at him and said that’s nothing to be proud of.

He let himself flop on the bed. ‘

You know that stag night is supposed to be about the groom right.’

‘I’m sorry’

‘It’s alright. I’ll get you water.’ He suddenly felt sweaty and disgusting and wanted to pull off his jeans. He got the fly open but couldn’t manage holding his bum up long enough and pull them down at the same time. There was no way he’d sit up and so he just lay there, trousers half down. At least he felt less sweaty like this.

‘I see that hasn’t changed.’ Harry couldn’t tell what the tone in Zayn’s voice meant. Maybe if he could focus on what it reminded him of. Zayn held the glass out to him and he tried to prop himself up to drink.

‘Thanks.’ Only half the water made it into his mouth, the rest ended on his shirt. Zayn sat down next to his feet. He stretched out one foot for Zayn to help him take his shoes off. It was like a reflex, the thing to do when they got drunk together. The cotton in his head wouldn’t let him remember why but he felt he had to pull it back quickly.

‘Don’t be daft’. Zayn got a hold of his shoe and pulled it off. Zayn pulled off his other shoe too and started on his jeans. Harry was ready to doze off but Zs fingers were cold on his skin and the way they trailed on the inside of his thigh made it feel like Z wasn’t just trying to help him undress. He felt the goosebumps spread over his leg.

‘Why did you come?’ Zayn was sitting at the foot of the bed again.

‘What?’ Harry felt a little disoriented.

‘You said you shouldn’t have come, so why did you?’

‘You invited me.’

‘I invited you for an afternoon, you’ve been here at least 10 days.’

‘I want you back.’

‘OK.’ Zayn said quietly.

‘I… I want us to be like we used to… before. I don’t even know before what. Just before, when we were younger. I’m… I miss you. I miss how I felt with you there. You’re not there now. And I’m ok with it I just… need someone like you sometimes. I always felt like… with you it always felt like you needed me too, maybe. No one else ever needs me. I think. I know they want me there and they like me and… but it felt like we were… something. More together. Different.’

‘OK.’ Zayn said.

It was odd, half sitting, half lying on the bed. Talking to the back of Zayn’s head. Actual Zayn, not the one he always imagined when he practiced these speeches. It’d all come out different than what he wanted. Tangled and uneven. Maybe it was better this way. Truer somehow. Or maybe he was just drunk. Zayn wasn’t. Zayn was the Zayn he was afraid of. The quiet one, from the night he left. The one who let Harry talk and never really said anything in return. He was the Zayn that made him wish he could just rip open his chest and let him see all that was inside. Because he knew Zayn got it. He knew he’d understand it if Harry could just figure out how to say it.

* * *

 

Harry woke up the next day to an empty room. It was around noon and the sun was peeking through a gap between the curtains. He tried to collect his thoughts but they were nowhere to be found so he decided to collect his clothes instead. He pulled on his jeans and boots and tried to get the dry taste of alcohol out of his mouth. He didn’t know what to do next. Zayn was getting married tomorrow and nothing Harry had done so far had seemed to stop him. Maybe it was time to give up. Harry sat down on the bed, where Zayn had sat the night before. Maybe he was just chasing an empty promise like he had feared in the beginning. He dozed off again, half dressed and still a little drunk from the night before. When he awoke again he had a text from Niall. ‘Want to come hang out in my room?’ it was about an hour old. Harry texted back that he’d be there soon.

When he got there, Louis and Liam were already lounging on the bed. There was some football match on the TV that Harry vaguely remembered talking about at some point.

‘You missed lunch but we thought you needed the sleep.’ Niall said, with a slight chuckle at the end.

‘Yeah, I know. I was tired.’

‘Mate, you were gone last night. Kept goin between bein angry and happy. You were joke-yellin’ at Liam half the night.’ Niall was still chuckling a bit.

‘I’m sorry.’ Harry had a vague memory of being annoyed at Liam talking about his feelings.

’S’alright, don’t worry about me.’ Liam smiled his reassuring smile at him.

‘Yeah s’alright, we don’t mind bein your babysitters, do we boys?’

‘C’mon Lou that’s not fair either.’Liam said.

‘Ok, would one of you just tell me what is going on?’ Harry knew they’d been talking about him.

‘You get pissed and then we have to take care of you.’ Louis said.

‘I said I’m sorry already.’

‘It’s not just the drinking though.’ Niall had been quiet but he looked concerned now.

‘You can’t just keep doing this.’ Louis said.

‘What do you mean?’ Harry was irritated and tired of apologising, he had apologised for so much.

‘You always just.. let yourself go and expect us to know what to do. We have other things to do.’

‘What do you mean let myself go? Like, what do you mean other things? I never bother you with my problems. I can take care of myself.’

‘I know that’s what you think.’ Louis replied.

‘I think…’ Liam hesitated ‘he means is you never come to us until it’s too late. Just kind of stick to yourself until you can’t anymore.’

‘Hmm’ Harry looked at Niall, who shrugged and looked at his feet.

‘So you’ve talked about this?’ He felt slightly betrayed.

‘Harry we had to. We wanna be your friends you know, but you gotta let us.’ Niall had found his voice.

‘But…’

‘Harry all we’re saying is, you gotta move on with your life. You gotta stop bein so mad at Zayn. You gotta stop makin’ your life about that.’ Liam said.

‘He just up and left. I have a right to be mad at him.’ The stubborn child was coming through again. Louis had a weird mixture of anger, sadness and disgust on his face. He also looked a little sick, like he had swallowed something bad and was trying to decide whether to throw up or stick it out. Liam looked at the match on TV and said nothing. Niall was the only one who was looking at him.

‘You agree with this Niall? You think I’m makin my life about Zayn? I’ve been working, I’ve been going out, I’ve gotten a new apartment.’

‘Yeah but you never actually sleep there. You sleep on my couch and stare at the fish tank.’ Niall wasn’t wrong.

‘That doesn’t mean anything.’ Harry insisted.

‘Harry when we went for a walk, you told me that this town didn’t feel like home anymore.’ Niall replied.

‘What does that have to do with anything? Why are you bringing it up?’

‘Because… I think… maybe you need a home. You don’t seem to have one now.’ Niall was hesitant but he had steadied his body again, stood up and squarely faced Harry.

Harry didn’t know what to reply then. He knew that Niall was right in the way he meant it but wrong in the way he said it.

‘I have a home.’

‘Harry I don’t mean that you’re homeless.’

‘I know. I’m… I think… maybe… I can’t have a home without people in it.’

‘You have to learn to listen to them though. You never really listened to Zayn.’ Louis wasn’t angry anymore, he sounded defeated and quiet. Maybe the tone of it all was the reason that Harry didn’t protest it all, maybe he also knew Louis was right, maybe he realised that Louis had just said something that he was holding more against himself than Harry. He let himself slump down on the floor, leaning against the hotel bed. He looked at his hands and his legs and his feet and wondered why he couldn’t feel them, all his feeling had retracted into his core, where it now sat and seemed to grow impatient and angry, trying to escape him but first to destroy him.

‘Do you think it’s my fault he left?’ He managed to say after a long silence.

‘I think it’s the fault of all of us.’ Liam replied. ‘We didn’t exactly… notice… much.’

‘Did he say something at lunch?’

‘Yeah he apologised for leavin’ Louis said.

‘Hm.’ Harry couldn’t really reply.

They spoke about lunch, Zayn and his fiancé, about how sorry Zayn was to have done what he’d done and how sorry that made everyone else feel. They spoke about Harry being withdrawn and then emotional, about how draining it was for the others, how much energy it took them. He ended up once again falling asleep away from his own bed. He felt dazed and sad but mostly guilty. He had blamed himself so much for Zayn leaving, had been so caught up with Zayn leaving in the first place that he’d never really noticed how much his friends were reeling from it. Even two years later. What was even worse was that he didn't notice that they were still there. He wasn't alone. He made his way back to his room after all, the guilt distorted his dreams and evebtually woke him up and lying next to Niall in the bed felt wrong and awkward. The cold sheets of his hotel bed were more soothing and he looked out at the sporadic traffic outside his window, wondering who the people in the cars were driving to and why it had to happen at 3am.

* * *

 

The knocking on his door wouldn’t stop, so Harry eventually had to get up. He opened the door and there stood Zayn, looking unsure.

‘D’you remember the stairs down by the harbour, where we used to go to chat?’

‘….yeah’ Harry’s voice hadn’t woken up with him.

‘D’you wanna go back?’

‘Umm…. Let me put on my shirt.’ He tried to smile, it was 5 in the morning.

They walked quietly as the night around them slowly turned from pitch black to dark blue.

‘Do you remember when we made the decision to leave? The night you’d had that fight with Tom?’ Zayn seemed to come out of a trance.

‘Yeah I remember, that was a strange night.’ Harry said. They were at the harbour now, the back part where the containers were stored and picked up, on a narrow fenced walkway, that led to a flight of old stairs descending directly into the ocean. The blue of the sky bleeding into purple and then back into the greenish blue of the ocean.

‘It’s odd being back here, it’s all so different. I wish I hadn’t…’

‘I know Harry.’ Zayn understood the apology in the words he didn’t say. It wasn’t a cold morning but the wind and the water made it obvious that it wasn’t quite summer yet. When they sat down on the steps, Harry felt compelled to pull his jacket tighter.

‘I think I hav’ta explain some things to you.’ Zayn said.

‘I don’t… I mean… If you think, yeah.’

‘I dunno, jus felt like what I have to do.’ Zayn was looking out at the ocean, where the harbour canal gave way to open water.

‘I’m gettin’ married today mate, can you believe it?’ Zayn smiled at the ocean, almost laughing.

‘And I still haven’t met your fiancé.’ Harry did his best to make it sound light.

‘D’you ever consider that maybe that was on purpose?’ Zayn was still half-laughing at the ocean. Harry didn’t know what to answer, so he just sat there, trying to figure out which bit of water Zayn was looking at.

‘I’m not like you, Harry.’

‘I know but…’

Zayn cut him off. ‘You’re so good at pretending you know where you are.’

I don’t feel like it. Harry thought.

‘You never actually know where you are though, do you?’ Zayn turned his head so he was looking at Harry. Harry remembered a poem he had read, about how time was not real, everyone had just decided that it worked in one way.

‘I know where I am pretty well, I think.’ Harry said, trying to concentrate on speaking while looking at Zayn.

‘But I mean with your life. You never know what’s going to happen next, you’ve never planned anything.’

Harry had never really thought about how he planned or not and what he did or not, things tended to just happen and he went along with it. He guessed that meant Zayn was right. He did think about the future though, it was usually all he thought about.

They talked about the way Zayn had felt in London, he said that there was never any room for him, only for trying to be famous, trying to be successful, trying to keep going. Harry didn’t really know what to say, but he knew that this Zayn seemed real to him. For the first time since he came back, Zayn seemed solid, not like he’d slip away any second, not like he wanted to slip away.

‘I don’t know, you were always so good at it. At the trying part you know? Never got tired of it.’ Zayn said.

‘I was tired most of the time.’ Harry said. Zayn nodded.

‘I just couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t think I wanted it enough.’ Zayn sounded defeated.

‘Hmm.’ Harry had never noticed it. He’d thought about Zayn leaving so much but he’d always blamed himself or their relationship.

‘I saw that yesterday.’

‘Whaddaya mean?’ Zayn looked at him again.

‘I mean… I never really, like, considered that you didn’t just leave me. You left like, everything.’ Harry said. ‘And the other boys too.’ He added, more quietly.

‘I know.’ It seemed a heavy thing to carry, something that no one’d lift voluntarily. Zayn looked like he'd been carrying it around with him for too long.

‘I’m not angry at you. I mean I was and I wanted to be and like, I thought I was allowed to… and like, maybe I was, but I didn’t really pay attention, did I? Like you were feelin’ things and I was busy bein’ like this big rockstar or whatever and then I just forgot that you always know I’m just me. Like I think I didn’t want you to know I’m just me. I wanted you to see me as that big rockstar too but like, actually you were always the most important person because out of everyone you’re the only one who was sure that I was me and everyone else was mostly guessing. And then I like forgot that maybe you didn’t wanna be like, a big rockstar, maybe you just wanted to be you and I was supposed to know that but I didn’t because I was so busy trying’ to be more than I am.’

Zayn was looking at him.

‘It’s ok Harry. I’m not angry at you either. I was and I like thought it was unfair that you were so sure about everything but I can’t blame ya for it. That’s part of why I love you, that way you make yourself so big. It’s a thing to look at, it’s a part of you. I always knew that but like, I don’t have that, and I think I needed to be ok with that.’

‘You’re a lot to look at too though.’ Harry smiled at Zayn and Zayn smiled back.

It felt like the pieces of himself that were floating around in space had stopped spinning, about to fall back into place.

‘I missed you.’ Zayn said. Zayn already knew that Harry had missed him. He didn’t need to say it again, so instead he listened for a meaning in the silence. Maybe Zayn was saying he would come back with him, maybe they could be together again, maybe this was all over finally and the world was ok again. But the silence didn’t say that much and Harry had a feeling that three sentences at dawn on a stairway into the ocean didn’t make a relationship. He decided to try anyway.

‘So will you marry me instead?’ There was another long silence for Harry to listen to.

‘Maybe.’ Zayn said finally.

‘Let’s go back to the Hotel.’ He added and they both got up and walked back through the damp morning, it had gotten light around them and the shipyard that never really stood still was working at full capacity. The noise made it impossible to really talk and it didn’t feel like they needed to. Harry felt Zayn squeeze his hand very lightly and tentatively. Harry squeezed back and then Zayn agreed to call Harry at noon, the wedding was supposed to be at three.

 

* * *

 

At noon though, Zayn hadn’t called. Harry tried his cell, but no one answered. Zayn had said ‘Maybe’, not yes. Harry had to check out of the room. He sat in the lobby. Was he still supposed to go to the wedding?

At 12:48 he got a text: ‘I’m sorry.’

He got up and got his suitcase. A man drove the car around. Harry thanked him, tipped him and got in. The suitcase was put in the trunk. He started driving. He was leaving home again. The second time. He drove for an hour. It was 1:53 when he pulled over to a reststop and couldn’t keep going. He just sat in the car, no way out or around himself. He couldn’t keep driving but standing still also felt wrong. He put his head on the steering wheel and exhaled.

It was 2:07.

He looked at his phone again.

Messages, Zayn,

12:48: I’m sorry.

And then underneath,

12:51: I love you.

He was an hour out, the wedding was to start in 53 minutes. He hit the gas and didn’t step off it until the car made a sputtering sound, coughed, and slowed. He managed to pull over but he was still almost half a mile from the wedding hall. He stood outside his car for only a second. He knew where he needed to be, so he ran. When he got to the hall, a nice white building with lots of windows and light shining through, the door was locked. He ran around the building, trying to find a way in but there was none. The people inside started to notice him. A crazed boy running in circles around a wedding hall. He tried the front door again but it wouldn’t open so he banged against the glass. The whole wedding party had turned around and was looking at him. Zayn was looking at him.

And then they were running. A million thoughts in Harry’s head had just stopped the moment Zayn had started walking towards him. He had started slowly, dignified and in control, Harry wasn’t sure if maybe he just wanted to tell him to leave. But then he’d gotten faster and faster until he was in a full run, looking a little goofy the way Zayn did when he was running. His face lit up when he opened the door of the hall and they were running hand in hand. In the bright May sun and down the road towards the bus stop, but they missed the bus by a second. ‘What now?’ Harry said panting. Zayn just started to chuckle and nodded toward the street corner. Louis was driving a florists’ van, Niall and Liam next to him in the front seat. ‘You’re gonna have to sit with the flowers boys.’ Louis yelled as he pulled up. They opened the back door of the van, Harry seeing people running out of the hall, after them. They both stumbled over some vases and closed the doors just as Louis hit the gas. It was dark and Harry heard Zayn falling over. ‘Where are you?’ I’m right here you’re standing on my foot.’ Zayn pulled him down and they were sitting side by side against the back wall of the van. Harry could feel Zayn’s shoulder leaning on his, the shape still so familiar even after two years. They were both still panting from the excitement and the running. Something had spilled and the floor was wet. Harry could smell peonies. Zayn’s hand was resting on his own. Their breathing started slowing down. Neither of them said anything as the truck rumbled down the street.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this long before March 25th. It then turned into a bit of its own beast. I also had some trouble with my technology while writing this, I apologize if it appears a bit disjointed. I hope you enjoy it anyway. (I'm sorry for the lack of smut, I really tried to do it for you but I couldn't bring myself to actually write it.)


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